| I grew up in the Bay Area, around a gang of robbin and shootin
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| Looked up to legends like Felix Mitchum, Huey P. Newton
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| And Todd Shaw a/k/a Too $hort
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| Blowin big hashis with dank that’ll make you choke
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| Young Mac Dre, causin major damage
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| Back in the days I tossed hoes in the back of my ham sandwich
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| Grown, gone, on bomb seed that’s hemp
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| Hound for potential prostitutes who need a pimp
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| But now I’m bendin corners, fresh out Taradas
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| Chokin on roper in the back of the Nada
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| Drinkin that snake bite, Yukon jack
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| And boy, I ain’t ride without my strap
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| Cause them cutthroat bandits will split yo wig
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| In the streets of Killafornia, ya dig?
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| It’s goin down, dog, I’m in your town, dog
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| Got to let your peeps know how I clown, dog
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| In the end get it, comin with that blackhand sound
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| You thinkin I can’t clown? |
| Let me put my mack hand down
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| How yo hood look?
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| It’s full of gangsters, fool
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| How yo hood look?
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| It’s full of gangsters, son
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| You can catch me on the Eastside, doin my thing
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| Or you can me in New York, boy, it’s all the same
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| I’m from the Eastside, where the thugs, they shed blood for nothin
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| After the club you get it in your mug if you frontin
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| We gangbang, it’s just that our slang’s a little different
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| Aim a little different, spit game a little different
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| Got in with the Mexicans, pricin them things a little different
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| Same kinda crooks, but we cook up bricks a little different
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| Them old school Chevrolets, our Six Range a little different
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| Y’all gats and guns the same, but we blow brains a little different
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| Them drive-by's, we walk-by's, some die a little different
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| Lie a little different, testify a little different
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| Y’all trees ain’t got seeds, y’all beez a little different
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| The d’s is different, my pee’s a little different
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| Y’all sell bricks, we break it down, get cheese a little different
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| Y’all hate narcs, we hate cops, we eat a little different
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| Y’all got strips, we got spots, our blocks a little different
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| It get hot a little different, fools get knocked a little different
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| When the feds came, yo Dre, they took the whole block to prison
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| My man pops was snitchin, his face chopped in Clinton
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| If you got change and the gear hot, then switch spots, get missin
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| Yo hood ain’t no different, my hood ain’t no different
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| In my neighborhood everybody thuggin
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| Hoodrats steady gettin dug in
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| Fools buggin, mean-muggin
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| Later on you seem em noggin
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| Dre, I play my hood all day
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| Seen a fool get killed in broad day
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| Thugs get money from the hallway
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| 2 for 5, the tall way
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| Ghetto slang, ghetto game
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| We all just doin that ghetto thang
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| Run around totin them metal thangs
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| Really, homeboy, it’s all the same
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| Yo hood is like my hood, son
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| Anywhere you go thugs pullin guns
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| Gangbangers, ghetto birds
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| Yo hood is like my hood, ya heard?
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| Me and Killa finna leet you know
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| How to put a lick down and get some dough
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| From yo hood to Mexico
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| Cause it’s all about that paper, though
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| Put me up with Vallejo hoe
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| That puff on hay, stay on the low
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| Dre got work, 800 to 0
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| Eastside thugs make money, you know?
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| I don’t care where we at
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| Just as long as we keep smokin fat
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| Get a fifth of Hen and hopin that
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| Everybody wanna stay chokin, black
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| I told you, Dre, our hood ain’t changed
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| Thuggin em well, slingin em things
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| Fools rock Rolies and diamond rings
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| Respect the game, our hood’s the same |